Data
by ScrappingKnees
Summary: I own the OCs, nothing else. X-Men Origins: Wolverine. M for language. Eventual romance. Cameron Lynn Evens is a mutant that's out of practice and is lured into Stryker's team. 'I took a breath; getting ready to let myself go. Inhale…'
1. Data: Sneak Peak

I reached across the counter, very hesitant to take his hands in my own. Slowly, I covered his calloused hands.

"I don't think you understand what you're asking me to do," I warned, "I will promise you that you aren't going to like everything that I unlock."

He twisted his hands underneath me and took my wrists and gave them a small squeeze, "Whatever is there, I can handle it. Don't worry about it Cam."

His eyes were filled and his mouth was shut loosely. I searched his face for some sort of clue or regret. I waited for him to retract his request. But he didn't.

"Right, then."

I closed my eyes for a moment. Pressing our palms together, I sat straight on my stool.

"What are you waiting for?"

I opened my eyes, seeing how impatient he was. Not answering, I took a breath; getting ready to let myself go.

Inhale…


	2. Data: Prologue

The radio on the mock-cherry oak desk blared music as report after report was passed onto the next desk that had been dragged over. The commodious room sat near to silent, humming to the music and breathing through the vents. Older adults, those who didn't chose to finish highschool, had left the room hours before that time. According to the digital clock that was on the desk anyway.

My students usually consisted of women who had children at a young age, those who have recovered from an addiction, or people who weren't given the opportunity to complete childhood. Most of my students were older than my measly 23 years of life and only half of them always took me seriously. Not only had I just graduated from college, but I only scrapped my way into getting the job. The other woman who applied for the job dropped out last minute because she had to move away for family reasons.

Long story short, I was up insanely late. The numbers on my clock yelled out into the classroom, reading 3:51 am.

But that didn't stop me. If I wanted to get to that wedding, I needed to grade all of those papers. You see, teaching night courses did have it's advantages. Which includes sleeping all day and being able to run the town all night after my lessons. But there were also a lot of disadvantages. People that I knew were never up as late as me and switching over my sleeping schedule, or not sleeping for days, so that I could attend a celebration was not fun. For example; the wedding that I had to attend the next day.

I was on my last paper, thank goodness it wasn't hard to grade the assignment, and my hand was acting on its own as I mindlessly corrected the grammar of the last sentence. Setting the pen down, I turned the docking station off.

Carefully cramming all of the essays into my suitcase, my legs brought me out of the room with a flick of the light switch. My classroom door slammed behind me and I locked the room with my ring of keys. Slinking the keys into my pocket, I made my way to the building main lobby. During the day high schoolers roamed the halls and even when I leave you can sometimes find a troublesome teen focused on causing mischief. The custodians look up from their work to wave and I wished them a goodnight. I yanked my sweatshirt around me more tightly as I briskly walked across the parking lot to my car. By the time that I was ready to leave, my car was the only car in the lot. Not even the custodians parked in the lot because most of them lived within three blocks of the school. My car blinked at me and then it allowed me to pop open the trunk. The suitcase thumped as it was tossed in carelessly.

My neck prickled and looked over my shoulder thoughtlessly. Shaking off the shiver, I shut my trunk.

There was a slick noise behind me, acting the audio part of a butcher knife being flung through the air. It was short and it didn't linger in the air. It was so fast that I took a while to even react to the noise; my eyes were too wide in startle. Turning quickly, I brought my arms to my chest. The parking lot was bare and my only company was the street light that I always parked next to. I bit back a few frantic swears. Feeling a bit nauseous and watched, I unsurely stepped closer to my car.

"…Hullo?"

My voice echoed around me, letting me know that I was alone.

I hadn't heard things. That sound had to of been there. Extremely paranoid, I spoke into the air, hoping that anyone, if anyone, was out there by any chance that they would hear.

"I don't like being watched," I said pithily. Sucking my teeth dismissively, I hopped into my car. I adjusted my rearview mirror quickly, taking one last look around.

"…It's probably just me," I reasoned quietly.


	3. Data: Chapter I

AUTHORS NOTE? _WHAT?_

**Geez, who actually reads these? Anywho, I'll try not to bore you to sleep. First off, I want to quickly discus my main character. In my mind I have her mutant power vaguely figured out, but I'm still hammering out the details. Just so you know. (: Also, she seems really mean and, well, bitchy. I am going to put my character through as much development and growth as a can, so don't be, erm, intimidated by her attitude. She'll move through the time in the story and she'll learn things and such. All of that good jazz. While she loses some things, other things will stay the same and she'll gain a lot. **

**Next, **_**I hate writing disclaimers**_**. Very much. So here is one for now and through the whole story. I DO NOT OWN ANYTHING BUT THE OC's**. I put a little disclaimer in the description to.

Lastly, I haven't edited this chapter yet. I can't edit my own things. I have three different people read each chapter and point out anything they see and once that is done I'll edit it. Sooo~ don't be too agitated by the poor grammar or the sentences that make no sense what so ever. It will be edited within the 5 days that I first post this chapter. The same will go for every chapter.

A special thanks to **RosesfromDemyx** and **ScreamScarlett**, my first reviewers. Hardly three hours after I posted the tiny Sneak Peak and the Prologue, and my inbox was bold with reviews. You guys made my day.

* * *

If only I had known that I was being watched for sure. If I had known… I would have done everything differently. I would have just been quiet and try not to draw attention to myself. Would that of helped? Would I still been recruited?

The day before the wedding and the hours before the wedding were hell. Even though I wasn't in the wedding party, I got sucked into setting up and dealing with the brides pre-wedding jitters. I dealt with the bride yelling at me to get stuff done, like putting up tool around the church, and I dealt with yelling at other people to get stuff done, like placing the flowers on the correct tables for the reception. After finally finding the Maid of Honor, the bride thanked me over and over before letting me go.

As I was on my way to freshen up before the ceremony, I was tugged aside by the grooms mother, and she had me sit with her while she blubbered about how her little baby was growing up. I patted her shoulder and quickly reminded her that she might have grandkids in the next couple of years, and she perked right up… and then she went on ranting about how she could spoil the little tots. I smiled and nodded through it and then she was swept away to help the bride finish up some final little things.

I ran into the bathroom to fix my hair which I hadn't done anything to but brush that day. It was a huge hot mess of a poof and I stuck my whole head into the sink.

My hair has always been wildly curly and hard to tame. In fact, the only way to get my hair to stay in dark, luxurious curls, is to treat it with expensive products. Products that I didn't ever bothered to buy. Some days it gets frizzy, but not on many days. Luckily, that day was not a frizz day. I pulled my hair into a sleek pony tail, hoping that when my hair dried that it wouldn't get too wild, and reapplied my makeup before whisking out of the restroom and into my assigned seat to wait for the wedding.

All in all, I had a long day and I was not in a good mood after everything. Don't get me wrong though! The wedding itself had been gorgeous. The Chapel was decorated carefully all in a deep sage green, and silver ribbon tied flowers together. It was everything that the bride wanted, right down to the rose engraved silverware. People were crying tears of joy and the wedding party were all coordinated perfectly. The brides attire was to die for, the perfect picture of elegance. Her hair dripped down softly from her crown, brushing her bare shoulders. Her dress was embroidered with crystal clear beads over lace.

I myself thought that the vows were touching and once it was all said and done, I had admired how in love the groom and bride were. When Jake looked right into Beth's eyes and promised everything he had to her, and she vowed the same to him, I remember thinking that words weren't necessary. The tender eyes that they had for each other was all that was needed to show just for much they cared for each other.

Sadly, I couldn't make it to the reception. I had somewhere to be. My night class was starting in an hour, and besides, all I wanted to do was to get my shift done with so I could go home and sleep until tomorrow night.

Standing at my car, I hung over my head over my open suitcase that I kept all my papers in. I read over note that I had left to myself, reminding me to ask one of my students to rewrite her last report.

"Oi, Cammy! We're going to Jake and Bethany's reception now. Are you sure you don't want to come?"

Looking over my shoulder from the trunk of my car, I lifted an eyebrow, "Sorry Dan. I've got to work tonight."

"Don't be like that Cam, it's open bar. What's better then free booze to celebrate the binding of two people who are in love? Besides, you always work."

_Gee_, I thought to myself, _that's convincing; let's all get drunk and act like asses at our friends wedding._

I snapped the suitcase shut before pushing it further into the trunk, brushing off imaginary dirt from my hands on my dress. I don't often wear dresses, so I was eager to get home and quickly change into some slacks and a easy going button up shirt.

"Well, you know what they say," I said slipping off my heels and holding them between my fingers, "There's no rest for the wicked. "

Dan looked pretty spiffy in a sleek tux and a flower tacked onto his front breast pocket. Being the best man, he told me, entitled him to look damn good. Just as long as he doesn't out shine the groom.

I turned to get into the car, but Dan's arm came to hold it shut. He leaned over me and grinned. Leaning against my vehicle, I shot him a sharp look.

"You should stay," he leaned forward, "And then afterwards maybe you could stay the night at my place." I had known Dan most of my life. He moved to Oregon from California in fourth grade and we've spoken ever since then. I wouldn't exactly call us friends; more like acquaintances. But even with that in mind, him hitting on me like that didn't rub me the right way. _And to think_, I mused, _he hasn't even had a drink yet_.

"No. This is the first and last time that I'll be saying that. Don't think the answer will change. Now, move. I'm going to be late for work."

His free hand lifted up to rest on my hip but I wasn't having any of that. I grabbed his hand, gripping onto his pinky.

He let out a laugh, "What are you going to do? Cam, let's face it. If I really want you… I think we both know how things are going to end."

"Huh," I paused, "I always knew you were a cocky little boy, but now you're just being a conceited little bitch." Quickly, I snapped his pinky back, bending it backwards painfully. He grunted as I put more pressure into it.

"Is that all?" he chuckled. I smirked. I kneed him where it counts. He fell to his knees and gasped.

"If you weren't the best man, I would have broken your hand. But seeing as you have to walk into the reception in thirty minutes, I decided that you didn't have time to make it to the emergency room and be back without being late. You'll stay down if you value the potential lives of your possible children." I stepped over his curled body and into my car. As I pulled away I saluted Dan who was kneeled on the ground, cursing me though a silent mouth.

My home was a small apartment in a large building. I painted the inside in warm colors with rustic metal appliances and dark cherry wood furniture. My room was orange and my sheets were tan. Looking back at it, the tan was sort of really tacky. My living room had a big window that over looked the city. My building was tall and I lived five floor from the main penthouse at the top. Aside from the top five floors, where each floor was an apartment, each floor had about twenty apartments. My kitchen consisted of a stove, counters and cabinets, an island in the middle of the room, and my stainless steel fridge.

"Miss. Evens, how are you this evening?" the lobby manager asked as I stepped up to her desk, my heels that I put back on clicking with my every foot fall.

"I could complain, but I've already dealt with it. I'm going to change and then it's off to work for me. What about you Margret?"

"Couldn't be better. Here's your mail."

I took the pile and smiled, "Thanks. You have a good one."

"You too Miss."

I turned and flipped through my mail, sorting it into three categories; junk mail, bills, and magazines.

At first I was too occupied by my sorting and longing to get to my apartment to realize that Margret had said something. With my hand on the elevator button, I looked back at her, "I'm sorry Margie, I didn't catch that."

"I said 'I told your guests to go right up to your apartment.' A group of men in uniform. A, uh, business group Miss?" Margret winked with a chuckle.

_Guests? I hadn't invited anyone. Uniform? I don't know anyone in the force. Or at least not anyone in this state. It couldn't be my brothers. Unless someone knows…? We aren't illegal,_ I rushed to myself, _not yet._

I went pale as blood slowly drained from me face, "When did they arrive?"

"Oh, just a few minutes before you did dear. I'm sure they're waiting patiently."

Nodding weakly, I put on a huge smile, "Thanks Margie."

In the elevator, after the doors closed and I was alone, I leaned against the wall, sliding down to rest my head in my knees. Making my breath long and shallow, I pressed the pads of my fingers to the surface below me. My mail was scattered around me, seeing as I had thrown it to the ground as soon as the elevator had closed. The black behind my eyelids flashed and gray ominous mist rolled in, consuming me wholly. The area around me seemed to fill with the fog, leaving my skin tingling; making the air moist.

Inhale…

The elevator shaft, up the suspension cords, through the closed doors, quickly down the hallway, under the door, into my dining room. Seven men, all shapes and sizes, all waiting, all in some sort of military garb. One of them is sitting at the head of the tiny rectangular table, his fingers intertwined. The rest of them didn't matter then. The one at the table seemed to be in charge.

Exhale…

Out of my dining room, under the door once more, up the hallway, squeezing through the tight elevator doors, down the suspension cords, and back to me. My violet dress clutching my skin, my feet still encased in my shoes, and my hair still pulled back and up; I was exactly in the same place. I was sure of it. Wrenching my eyes back open, I picked up all of my mail. The elevator let out a ping and I stood up straight.

I paused before getting out. How would I act? Hostile? All knowing? Innocent? Unaware?

_I'll just do my best not to get myself in trouble_, I reasoned.

I don't know why I didn't just turn and run out of the building. I should of gotten back into my car and driven until I didn't know where I was anymore. But I didn't. The thought didn't even cross my curious little mind.

I didn't even need to take out my keys from my hand purse as I got to my door. I touched the handle and I knew that it had already been unlocked. My 'Welcome' door mat had a corner that was upturned. I squared my shoulders. I opened my door quietly and strode it, closing it tightly behind me. I didn't lock it. I tossed my purse onto a stand that I had near my door before walking into my dining room, my eyes down and my back to my guests. I stood over the bureau that my grandfather had crafted. Nothing moved but myself as I sorted through my mail once more, tossing the junk mail one by one into the rubbish. I licked my lips, trying not to give anything too much thought. _What to say…_

"It's incredible how much junk mail I'm getting every day, even after I tell the sponsors that I'm not interested. I don't think I've ever bought something from a catalog," I said lightly. I flipped through some bills, "I swear I paid these last week… Well, at least my Cosmopolitan arrived."

I turned and leaned on the bureau, flipping through my magazine. Articles, ads, and pictures passed my sight without much thought. Once I felt that the silence was too thick and that my thoughts were close enough to being in place, I spoke again.

"What can I do for you gentlemen?" I asked, looking over the pages of my magazine. The man at the head of my table nodded at me, with a blank face. I didn't respond, instead I placed the magazine down and crossed my arms.

"Miss Cameron Evens; Do you mind if I call you Cam?" he asked.

The leader had a long face and it sagged with years of troublesome work. He was plain and middle aged. Out of habit I almost extended my hand out to him to take his own and learn his name, but I stopped before my hand even twitched. Blinking at him once, I inclined my head to get a better look at them all.

Furthest to my right, where I had entered from, stood an man with dark skin. Standing next to the window, he looked casual, his thumbs tucked behind his belt. He was wearing a cowboy hat and he had a small amount of facial hair. He, like everyone else in the room, was looking at me. He looked content, not exactly hating being where he was, and not enjoying it either. His head was tilted down and he jetted his head up for a moment in greeting. I looked to the next man.

First thing I saw was the pair of katanas that he had strapped to his back. One side of his mouth was curled up in a smirk as his gaze glided down. I did the same but without the degrading smirk, looking over his arms, which looked just about as thick as my thighs. He leaned against my wall, his arms crossed behind his back. His hair was short and his eyes were large and brown.

Next to Sir Undress People With My Eyes and behind the leader stood a man with a very angular face. His hands were rested on his hips so that his suit jacket was pulled back and something shinny was revealed in the dim light. _Guns_, I hissed to myself, _guns and swords. Who do these people think they are bringing all of this stuff into my home_? The mans hair was slicked back and his mouth was drawn into a very fine tight line.

Sitting in a chair that had been moved from the table was a man who leered at me with eyes like a predator. He was sitting casually, his legs spread and his palms laying on his thighs. He had hair running down the side of his face and around most of his jaw line. When he knew he had my attention he grinned widely showing off a pair of abnormally long canines. I briefly bit my bottom lip.

At least I knew that they were mutants… maybe. At least the one with the odd teeth was.

In the corner of the room was a very beefy man. He had muscles on his muscles, and not to bash him, but he didn't look all that bright. He looked at me sadly and then looked away. On his arm was a tattoo. The flesh around it was still pink and agitated. It was fresh.

Lastly, and the closest to me, was a man who was blond. His nose was round and his cheeks were as well. He was slouched over and looked a tab bit skittish. If I had to guess I would say that he was the shortest out of them all of the men who were lounging in my dining room.

Back to the head honcho.

"Actually I do mind," I bit out at him, "Now, if _you_ don't mind, do you think we could skip the small talk and get to the point? Or at least why you think it's okay to come into my apartment and make yourself at home. But then again, who you all are might be a good place to start."

"It looks like someone's PMSing."

I brought my chin to my chest and let out a breathy laugh. I looked up at the man with the katanas and smiled sweetly, batting my eyelashes.

"It looks like the only 'some' that you are getting, is up the ass," I gestured to the men around the room. The man frowned. There were a few barks of laughter around the room.

"Now, that wasn't very lady like," the man with the canines drawled. I regarded him with a glance.

"If you are walking into here hoping to find someone lady like, you wondered into the wrong apartment."

There was a screech and I winced. I realized that the man sitting at the end of my table had pushed back the chair he had been sitting in. He jumped into a standing position.

"Watch the hardwood floor there, pal. It's been a long day and I still have a list of things to do. The only way I can really be happy about such an abrupt movement is if it's you getting out," I said.

Stepping away from the situation, I realized that I was sitting in the middle of a lions den as a bleeding gazelle. The longer I was standing there the more obvious it became that six of the seven men were mutants. All of them except for the leader. Who knew what they could do and then there was little ol' me with my sneaky tactic ability. Most of the men in the room looked like they could pick me up and snap me in half.

What would Phineas and Phillip have said if they were there right then?

I remember them walking me from school once since they had no college courses to attend that afternoon. I was in 8th grade and I wasn't innocent- it's impossible to be innocent when you live in a house full of guys and your mom- but I hadn't been exposed to the type of people out there that really wanted to hurt me. Not me in particular, but I had never encountered a person who wanted to hurt someone else for the hell of it.

I had been venting furiously about my World History teacher unfairly dishing out detention for only being moments late to class. Phineas was laughing at my misfortune while Phillip patted me on my back before ruffling my hair. Scoffing I skipped ahead of them, my uniform skirt swishing around me. I turned and skipped backwards- something easier said then done. I crashed into someone else and came tumbling down, only barely catching myself with my palms.

Someone whistled and I quickly sat up and flattened out my skirt. My face burned and I stood up with my backpack in hand.

"I'm sorry, I wasn't looking where I was going-"

"Naw, that's okay little girl. I got quite a bit in return. Care to uh- give me more?"

The man I bumped into was without a doubt trouble and even without the nasty smile on his face I hadn't missed a beat. I looked at him, horrified, as his hand reached out for me. I was frozen in place, so I looked over his shoulder where a group of men stood hooting and hollering, cheering him on.

"I promise it won't hurt. I'll be gentle," the man cooed. I couldn't help but think in the back of my mind about how cliché his words where. That's what all rapists or murderers say before they do something that obviously does hurt a lot. Just as I thought I was in serious trouble, I remembered that my older brothers were right behind me.

Each of the twins clamped a hand down on a shoulder, pushing me behind them slightly.

"Don't you even think about it you ba-" Phineas began.

"Sir, we're going to walk away now. You have two choices. You can walk away now or you can try something else."

Phineas, the firecracker, tried to go off at the man, but the more calm Phillip cut him off and took over the situation. That's how is usually went with my P twin brothers.

As they pushed me away, still watching the man and his buddies as we got further and further away, Phil spoke to me in an even voice,

"Never trust a group of men who leer at you, Cammy. Not at first, and not ever if you feel your gut twist painfully whenever you see them."

Back to the men in my dining room.

"Miss. Evens, let this be clear; we are not here to hurt you. If you could take a seat, we have a lot to discuss," the man at the end of my table said.

I didn't mention that all but two of my chairs had been cleared from the room, probably to fit the group of men into the room.

Looking the man over once more, I quickly made an assumption, "I'm fine standing. Go ahead and make yourself at home though Sarg." After waiting to see if I would budge, and seeing that I wasn't going to, the man sat down, purposely dragging the chair on the floor loudly.

"Cornel, actually. My name is William Stryker, the head of this team. When I say jump; they leap, when I tell them to stand down; they drop there weapons, when I tell them to kill someone… it's as good as done." Warning was the undertone of his voice.

"Well Mr. Stryker, it looks like you have created a well oiled mutant team. What does that have to do with me?" I asked.

"We know who you are Evens."

I quirked my brows, "Oh really? And I know _what_ you are Stryker. You are a human with a high rank among many powerful mutants. Tell me, does it ever bother you?"

I swear, his eyes turned to bullets as he glared at me. But I didn't stop there.

"Does it make you feel weak?" there was no response, "I'm taking that as a yes. You have to configure a team of different talented mutants to accomplish something, when you wish that you could do it on your own. What would you do for the reward of being able to change something; to be born with your own power, eh?"

I thought he might pop a vein as his face began to turn a not so lovely shade of purple. But then be smiled.

"Cameron, I want you on my team. Everything that you have ever wanted will be at your finger tips, completely available to you. You would never have to hold back from using your powers. Imagine the freedom," his voice got low near the end and I tilted my head to the side.

"Not holding back, you say? Obviously you don't know as much as you think you do about my abilities. That's like asking me to cram every single code of data and DNA in the world into my head. Besides," I uncrossed my arms and spread them out on each side of me, "I'm perfectly content here."

"You and I both know that isn't true."

"You and I both know that you are just telling me that in a sad attempt to get me to second guess myself."

I couldn't help but feel a bit childish as I threw everything I had at him. I was hoping he would lose his temper and leave, but he was as cool as a cucumber. Without turning in his- or rather _my _chair- he held his hand out behind him.

"Zero, if you'd please."

The man with the tight face dropped several files into his hand. I looked at him apprehensively. What could possibly be in that folder to make him think that I would be persuaded?

"I understand that you have eight brothers?"

My temple irked at his comment. He opened the files one by one, spreading them across the table. If he knew my secret, did that mean that he knew about the others too? I buttoned my lip and didn't even give it a second thought. Stryker flipped through some papers as if double checking things.

"Four in the Coast Guard, one working as a tattoo artist, one who owns a café in Arizona, one in college majoring in English Literature, and the youngest is in his senior year of high school I believe. Is that correct?"

I held eye contact. What in the world was he getting at? He wasn't finished.

"Phineas Edwin Evens, twenty-nine years old. Married to Samantha Krayas. He owns the Highwire Tattoo Parlor and is an organ donor. What a generous young man.

"Phillips Ethan Evens… and look at this! They are twins. Phillip works on the Coast Guard and his medical records are telling me that he had his tonsils removed when he was eleven. He's married to a woman who works as a social worker named Sandra.

"Quincy Den Evens-"

I let out a sigh and yanked my hair out of its ponytail. I flung it across the room at him and it hit him right in the forehead. He looked up from his reading, agitated. I ignored him, running my hands through my hair repetitively, poofing it out a bit.

"You've got my attention Stryker. Now spit whatever you have to say out."

"It would be rather unfortunate if your brothers' seat in college was pulled out from under him when he was finishing up his second year. It would be… simply tragic if your brothers all disappeared during a rescue out at see , wouldn't you agree?"

I swallowed the bile that was starting to form at the back of my throat and I finally cracked. I could see certain mutants grin at me as I gulped and my breath quickened. I was furious at first, but as I thought more about it, fear pooled in my stomach. How much power did this man have?

"Tragic?" I said in a slightly pitched voice, "It sounds like you are threatening to inflict yourself on my younger brothers education. It seems to me like you are telling me that you are willing to brutally murder four innocent men while they go out and save lives! And for what? To add me to your little mutant collection?!" I stopped abruptly, even though I had plenty more to say. I walked into my kitchen, all eyes still on me. I turned to walk with my hands up in mock surrender for a second before rolling my eyes and grabbing a chair from the cluster that the men had sloppily put my furniture in. Once I snagged a chair and walked back and set myself on the opposite side of the table from Stryker. My heart was beating in my ears as I slipped off my heels and set them on the table, ignoring my usual 'no shoes on the table' rule. I folded my hands on the table and crossed my legs formally. I leaned forward a bit. I smiled. And then I viciously hissed at him,

"Fuck off of my brothers. What kind of man are you Stryker? If you have something to say to me or something to get done that has to do with me, take it up with me. Speak. To. Me. And cut out your vague shit. Don't involve my brothers, who have absolutely nothing to do with it," once again, angers rolled off of me in waves. And I let it, allowing it to hit me for a few minutes before I calmed my mind and continued in a normal voice, "Now, what do you need from me?"

Stryker looked really pleased and a spike of panic ran through me. Had I said anything that gave him an upper hand? Nothing came to mind at first, but I quickly realized how angry I had come off as. It probably wasn't the best way to enter the situation. They had really caught me on a bad day. I definitely over did it.

Stryker shuffled papers into my brothers' folder before whipping out another folder from within his coat. He slid it over to me and then leaned back into his chair. I fingered the edges of the folder, curious at what could possibly be so important to the man. I flipped it open and instantly I was confused.

"I hope that the rock is more useful than it looks. We had to halt our search for a while due to some complications on the team but as soon as you're on board we'll resume," Stryker told me.

The rock itself looked abnormally average and instantly my imagination kicked into gear. What was the government, or Stryker, planning on doing with this rock? And why use a mutant team. Some elements of the rock were listed on a sheet of paper- so they must of found a rock large enough to take samples from it to test. Most of the compounds were unidentified.

"I need to give my employers two weeks notice-"

"Already dealt with."

"I need to pack, how long will I be away?"

"You'll be moving to base. I already had things smoothed out for you to leave. I'll send movers back to get it all where you want it."

"No, that's fine. Most of what's in my house can be moved to storage. I'll just need to get a few things. It'll take less than an hour."

"That's reasonable."

"…I'm in. But I need to know… what are you going to do with this?"

"All in good time Miss. Evens."

I wasn't happy that he just assumed that I would be going with him, but obviously I would be so I let it go. Now I was in it for two reasons. To keep my family away from the manipulative fucker named Stryker and to figure out what the plan is once the rock is found.

"Then let's get this show on the road."


	4. Data: Chapter II

**AUTHORS NOTE. Ohboy.**

So. Lately I've been getting a lot of reminders about this story (or so it seems in my head… one or two in reality, but I haven't updated in ages so I figured it was worth diving back into it). I don't know what distracted me, but I am going to do my best to engage in this story now. This and another story that I have on a different account, but that, my friends, is a minor detail. This is a bit of filler before I jump into plot. :D

So… here we go! Enjoy!

Even though it was really late when Stryker barged into my apartment, after giving me my time to pack, he informed me that we would be flying to 'base'- wherever that was- right away. The plane wasn't even a bloody plane. It was a monster!

…Alright, that was a tad bit over exaggerated. But none the less, it was the largest damn plane that I had ever seen. None of the men had said anything, they all looked very professional… or like they were avoiding me completely. Either way, I didn't mind. I was in my baggy navy sweatpants and a white thermal. My jogging sneakers encased my feet and I couldn't be any more content with the lazy outfit that I was in. It was a lot more comfy than that dress I had been wearing.

The plane itself was some sort of military plane- a carrier or something like that? Maybe I should have paid more attention to my brothers when they would rant about being a soldier when they got older- and I closed my eyes as we took flight.

"Afraid of flying?"

I scrunched up my nose at the man with katanas, scoffing, "No. I get motion sickness." It was partially true. I just didn't ever like flying. He grinned,

"Sure, that's what they all say. Y'know, if you need someone to cling to, I've got a free arm. My other arm has to hold my swords. Do you want to know what I like about these swords?"

"Not likely," I said, "And no, I don't want to know."

The man wasn't listening though, he reopened his yap and started talking. I completely ignored him and got lost in my own head.

I had a great grandmother who lived in Michigan. Every other year for Christmas, my father and mother had us fly, all nine kids and themselves, from Oregon to her house. I usually got stuck with my two younger brothers, Timothy and Felix, and they would toss trail mix at the innocent people in front of us. Whenever one of the victims would turn, the little shits would point at me and look at the accusing person through their little boy eyelashes. I wasn't ever willing to dump my brothers into trouble, even if it meant me getting in trouble, so I would only look down and apologize.

Later, Quincy, my favorite older brother, would come over and slip me a piece of gum. It was the same way every trip and through all of that I would carry a bucket with me, because every trip at one point or another, I would up chuck my breakfast.

The trip always made me sick to my stomach, but it was worth it because each time we got to Grandma's house she would be waiting with a glass of water and a fresh plate of steaming snicker doodles. We stopped flying over when my great grandmother passed away when I was nine.

But that's besides the point.

My stomach twisted, and even after fourteen years of getting older, the plane still made me ill. Once we were airborne, I pulled my knees to my chest and yanked out my Cosmopolitan from my black purse that I had jammed water, trail mix, and my magazine into.

Breathing deeply, I tried to concentrate on the words on the page rather than the jumps that the plane seemed to be making. But not only was the katana man's voice like a little buzzing in my ear, but then the man with the tight face who was wearing a suit spoke.

"Can't you find anything less trashy to read?"

Looking up at him, I saw how his nose was upturned as he read the cover of my magazine. I flipped it shut and read over the cover. A woman in a green dress that only wrapped around one shoulder with brunette hair looked up at me and I read the print on the front.

'Why Older Women are in Higher Demand' Hm, I guess that can be seen as trashy. I didn't admit that out loud though, "Can't you find a less tacky tie to wear?"

His hand flew up to his neck where his tie was and he frowned. I grinned cheekily before putting my magazine away.

I cleared my throat and rubbed my temple as the plane jerked again, "So, you all know who I am. Who are you guys?"

"I'm Christopher Bradley. Chris is fine though."

To my surprise, the man with the round nose spoke up. He hadn't said a word during the whole ordeal.

"Yeah, Christopher does seem like a bit of a mouth full," I commented lightly.

"The name's John Wraith. No fancy little nick name. Just John," the man with the dark skin and hat piped in with a tiny tip of his hat. The motion was so tiny and played on that it was almost mockingly done.

There was a large chopping noise, like a snapping crocodile, that ran through my head as a bulldozer. I tilted my head toward the man with the fresh tattoo who was chewing on a protein bar with a wide open mouth.

"My name's Frederick Dukes," as he spoke little meteoroids spewed from his mouth and even as he sat several feet away I was grossed out, "Everyone calls me Fred."

I lifted my hand to feign wiping off my face with a tiny sneer on my lips. I hoped that it would fly right over his head, my little insult that is. Honestly, who wants a hefty, beefy man angry with you? Even with that in mind, I still poked fun at him without saying anything.

He didn't catch on after a few seconds, he only stared. So I ventured a question.

"That's new ink, yeah?"

I noticed right off the bat that Fred didn't really have many emotions. So far I've seen dull eyes- which I had mistaken for sad the other night.

"Yeah," he took another loud bite, "What of it?"

"Nothing really," I said, looking at the tattoo for a while. It was of a pinup girl. I didn't understand why someone would get a pinup girl tattoo. I personally always thought that tattoos were supposed to mean something; a tattoo is with you for life and it should never just be for show.

"It looks like your artist used a disposable needles. And they definitely used a liner needle for the whole tattoo. I think that's heavy metal based ink that they used. That would probably explain the reaction that your skin is having; your skin is rejecting the metals. It's more red then I've seen before, that's for sure," as I said this I scratched my cheek lazily as I remembered what I knew, "You probably should of waited until you found a reliable artist."

For some reason Fred took offense to what I said.

At that moment the plane gave a sickening dashing movement and I almost lost my stomach. I groaned softly and put my hand over my mouth for a moment until I was sure that I wasn't about to cover Fred in vomit. I looked expectantly at the man with the katanas as he snickered at my unease.

"I'm Wade. The guy with the tacky tie is Zero. And that wet cat over there," the katana man gestured to the man with the canines who was sitting turned away from everyone, "He's Victor Creed. You'll be wanting to stay away from him. He has… temper issues."

"Wade," John said in a warning tone.

Victor didn't turn around. He didn't have to. He flexed his hands dangerously and if I hadn't been watching it wouldn't have mattered. As his dingy fingernails grew out, sharp as ever, you could hear it. Like knifes sliding against each other, the nails sprung out.

"Home sweet home?" I muttered, plenty ironic.

Stryker chuckled and threw his arm around my shoulder as he led me inside the base. We had gone by several soldiers, all who didn't look toward us other than to send me a questioning look. I suspect that the team doesn't really get much female company.

I looked at Stryker's arm and then at him. I guess he didn't see my glare because he began to speak. Behind us were the other six guys, all that I had learned the names of.

What did I think of them?

Well, let me put it this way. My stay might be a little rocky and painful.

"It'll be your home as long as you stay here. And we plan on having you here for a very long time. So get comfortable," Stryker waved off some more soldiers and we walked though some metal doors.

Looks a bit like a prison entrance rather than a home doorway.

"Just don't get too comfy," Stryker added with a glance to the men.

I scrunched up my nose and pinched his hand, lifting his arm off of me, purposely very slow in order to get a point across, 'Don't think that we're buddy, buddy Mr. Stryker, because we aren't.'

"You don't have to worry about that. I'm not sure how comfortable you can really get…"

I trailed off as I took in the room around me. There was a television and two large couches and a couple of old leather reclining chairs. The walls and ceilings were a sheen silver and all of the doors that I could see were a dark black metal.

There were mini fridges uhm… 'strategically' placed around the room so that no matter where you were sitting, you could reach for the fridge. What was in the fridges? My best guess would have to be beer because cans were all over the floor, on the couch, and overflowing from the trashcans. Different colored wife beaters were scattered across the room, disposed of without a second thought and shoes sat in pairs around the room, all in different sizes, usually untied and turned over. Plates were staked on every table and cigarette butts were skewed all over. I spied a book or two, both of which were flipped open to random pages and folded over to indicate a reading place. There was a stack of cassettes near large speakers and on top of the pile was a can that looked as if it were about to fall off. I couldn't find any sort of clicker for the television. There was a darts board nailed to the wall and, sure enough, a mountain of darts were idly lounging on the floor.

That was only what seemed to be a recreation room. Looking around I saw an open door which lead to a half bathroom. The seat was completely up and the tiled floors looked like they hadn't been washed in ages. I didn't dare look at it any more once I saw a little roach scurry across the floor.

The kitchen, which was almost a part of the living room, was full of dishes, stacked so high that the stacks themselves might have been taller than me.

Then again, being taller than me isn't much since being five foot two isn't much.

The sink looked like it hadn't been used since the dawn of time and the cabinets were all open to reveal their empty insides and the fact that the men did not like to snack on pretzels, judging by the huge untouched bin of them.

_Who __doesn't__ like pretzels? _

I stepped over a few things and then turned toward the men. Stryker looked around the room more and Zero sneered in disgust. I guessed he was a neat freak. It only made sense to me in my mind, clean cut suit, jelled back hair, the whole sha-bang.

Wade, who seemed to be the biggest smart-ass around this place, then asked, "What? Did you just realize that you aren't in Kansas anymore?"

I didn't say anything. I just looked around once more. I could hardly see the floor as paper and blankets and- what were thoset?- porn magazines laid there silently. I picked up a dirty magazine and raised an eye brow before tossing it aside with a blank face.

I looked down. I was standing on top of a old pizza box- So that's what was squishing under me- I stepped off. I picked it up off the ground. It started very breathily before it rumbled in my chest and then it jumped out of my mouth. I laughed.

"This is great, I feel like I just jumped into my house ten years ago."

Flipping open the pizza bow open I doubled over for a moment with delight, "Exactly like my brothers side of the house, right down to the nearly empty box of pizza with the half eaten slice and the forgotten jalapeño."

I recovered quickly, mashing my lips together to stop my silly grin. My brothers and I weren't exactly on speaking terms. Sometimes thinking about them would be a brass knuckled punch to the stomach. So I avoided thinking about them.

I didn't like seeming awkward so I continued to inspect the room. The team, besides Wade who always had something to say, was really quiet. I'm sure they were apprehensive. Their manly 'crib' was being invaded. Or maybe they were sexist pigs. Or maybe they doubted my powers.

I wouldn't be impressed with me if I was them. I was rude and bitchy and well, I was me.

I shifted on my feet, "…So where am I staying?"

After being dumped into my room, I moved around my bags and boxes that had yet to be unpacked, trying to seem busy to myself as I thought. _There are seven if you include Stryker, but there isn't much to know about him since I'm sure he's a scheming old man. The least dangerous seems to be Chris. He was the first to introduce himself on the plane. Victor definitely seems to be the most dangerous._

I flipped my wrist to look at my watch. I had been walking in circles in my room for about an hour, and my stomach was empty and crying out for some chow.

My mouth was mint fresh with a hint of stomach acid. Yes, I had up chucked the tiny amount of food that I had in my stomach from the wedding when we touched the ground. Once we were off the plane, I quickly asked where the bathroom was. I only got half of my answer before I took off in a quick stride.

I exited my room, closing the door quietly behind me. The set up of the Evil Lair- which I had dubbed the area since I was convinced that it wasn't the Head Quarters of a Justice Force- was fairly simple.

There was what I called the 'Danger Zone' which was the recreational room, the kitchen, and that nasty bathroom. It's the Danger Zone because I wasn't sure if I could ever walk into that area without the fear of tripping on my face. Next there was the 'Livable Corridor', which is one of the two hallways that is connected to the Danger Zone. It's where all of the rooms are I suppose, along with a ton of other rooms that I have no idea of what is behind the door. Then there was the 'Unexplored Overland' which was the second hallway that I wasn't given an explanation for.

I padded down the Livable Corridor, counting the doors. There were sixteen doors not counting the door at the end of the hall. I came to the end of the Livable Corridor and leaned against cave mouth of the Danger Zone. I counted the six mutants, more than happy to see that Stryker was MIA.

Edging about the room, I idly decided that I would eventually have to clean up. No one wants to have to be cautious about walking in a living area bare foot. I especially didn't want to have to worry about whether or not I would step on old food. When I mention old food, I mean really old food. The kind of food that is molding over and wreaks of slow decay. I had chosen to keep my shoes on. Oh, and trust me when I say that was a good choice. Not that much longer after I began further looking over the common area, my foot squished.

Well, my foot didn't squish; the half eaten banana that my foot fell onto squished. Come on now, just think about it. If I hadn't been wearing my shoes, the brown mush would have seeped up from in between my toes and later I would have had to clean under my toe nails. It would have been just disgusting. Which is why I decided that, without a doubt, I would be cleaning the common area.

"I'm not a typical preppy little gal, but I can't deal with this," I muttered more to myself than anyone else, motioning sharply to my gross shoe. The thought of possibly having only socks on when it happened or nothing on my feet at all made me a bit squeamish. I gagged. If you can't tell, I don't like anything associated with my feet. Nothing at all… other than the occasional happenstance of clipping my nails, painting of the nails, or when I can somehow persuade a mildly attractive man- or several of them- to give me a foot massage. But look at me, I'm rambling now. I balanced on one foot to survey the damage. Scrunching my nose up, I leaned over and picked up a random pile of partially dirty napkins that according to the pattern on the tissue was from a pizza place. All of the banana eventually was off my shoe. I made sure that the trash ended up where is belonged. IN THE RUBBISH. Not the floor boys. I wanted to rant, but I chose not to. There was no need to seem like the OCD mad woman.

Not this soon anyway. You end up being a bit anal when it comes to organization if you have several strands of information attacking you at all angles if you don't have some sort of control. Control over the mind and how you intake that information. How I take in that sort of information through touch and through my extensions.

After cleaning up I took a seat on one of the couches. I was sitting next to Fred, as far as possible from him, and on his other side was John. I glanced at the both of them, but they didn't bother to acknowledge me as they sipped on some bottled beer. The thought of alcohol brought me back home to Dan. I wondered just how smashed he got, if he made a fool out of himself, and who he ended up screwing the hell out of. I pitied the poor soul who got stuck with him. And suddenly I was missing home and in need of a gin and tonic. But honestly, who knows guys who keep those things in their bachelor pad?

Or in this case, military base. Or whatever it was. '_Great_,' I thought, '_Who knows how long it'll be until I can get my share of decent alcohol_.' I leaned back further into the couch and winced. No one likes a lumpy rump-rest.

"Uncomfortable?"

I looked up, irritable once I realized who it was. Of course it was none other than Wade. He was standing in front of me, his overly beefy- muscle-y, whatever- arms crossed. Resisting an almost reflexive eye roll, I twisted around and fished into the cushions to find the source of my discomfort. I yanked out a toy in surprise. I blinked several times in horror.

"THERE'S MY YOYO!" Wade cried out enthusiastically. All right, so that bit about blinking in horror was another exaggeration, but that is a minor detail. In my hand was a collector item that all of my brothers had once avidly protected. Yes, a yoyo from a cereal box. The sleeveless mutant stepped forth, placing his legs leaning against my knees and reached for the yoyo expectantly.

"…" I scanned over his face once, "What do you want."

The ignorant asshole wedged my knees further between his legs, "Oh, nothing."

Narrowing my eyes, I lifted the yoyo up, "This wouldn't happen to be what your pestering me for, would it?" Before he could open up his troublesome trap again, I twisted my finger into the yarn and gave a flick of my wrist.

THWACK.

The yoyo beat right between his eyes and then tumbled down to the floor. Hell, it hadn't been part of the plan for the yarn to come off my finger. It also wasn't the plan to hit him in the face. Looking back on it, it was far more interesting that way. Fred was letting out a full laugh. Wade's eyebrow twitched and he clenched his fist. And then his fist made his way over his shoulder.

Over his shoulder and toward his lovely weapons. My first reaction was something along the lines of, '_Bloody hell, I'm going to die_.' My second reaction was to lift a leg up and thrust my foot against his chest to move him away. Though my foot only met a full wall of muscle, it was enough to push him back a bit. That's when I made the best escape that I possibly could. Rolling over the arm of the couch and scratching my way to my feet was easy enough. There was no thought, because my third reaction was, '_Calm the not-so-little nut job down_!'

"You know, more than likely Stryker would not be overly thrilled if I went on the first mission in slices. Or dead. Either or, you feel me?" I said as calmly as I could, my fingers locked in a knot behind my back. He watched me teeter back and forth on my feet, and I watched him lift his katanas out of the sheathes.

Review? Just let me know what I'm doing wrong, or even right, so I can cater to the needs of the consumers.


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